Not enough
by sharkinterviewee
Summary: "That's not enough," he says, pulling away, but she can hear in his voice what he really means. I'm not enough. She's come to realize Peter's just as desperate for acceptance as the rest of them. She wants to keep quiet, but the annoying thing about caring for someone is that she wants to protect him too. And maybe, the most infuriating thing- she wants to protect him from herself.


**AN: this was inspired by _That Unspoken Thing (remains unspoken)_ by _tisfan _over on ao3, which is amazing and has the general premise of 'our unspoken thing is going down right now on the condition of no speaking'**  
**and specifically inspired by these lines:**  
**"Gamora."**  
**"Shut up, Peter, don't… don't talk to me."**  
**"I have to. You… I… tell me yes, you want, please…"**  
**"It's an unspoken thing, Peter."**

**And while their fic leads to hot alien sex that's mostly focused on the smut, I just wanted to write something that's sweet and angsty and emotional hurt/comfort and feelings, so here it is**

* * *

It's not long, after Gamora slips into his room, tells him this is happening tonight.

On one condition.

That they don't talk.

It's still their unspoken thing, and they're turning it into a physical thing, if and only if there's no talking involved. Though it's always a struggle for someone as talkative as he is to remain quiet in any situation, much less the girl of his dreams in his bed, Peter recognizes this as a way of protecting herself, of opening up and being vulnerable yet still retaining the veneer of insulation between Gamora and things outside herself.

He's about to agree, say _yeah, of course, absolutely, _or _oh my God yes, whatever you want, anything- _

But she covers his lips with her fingers, raising her eyebrow at him. Reminding him to stay quiet.

Peter swallows, gulps more like it.

Right. Unspoken.

He nods, her finger still over his slips.

Gamora smiles, and _anything _is worth her smiling like that. Smiling at him like that.

Her fingers drift, cupping his jaw and bringing her lips back to his, reuniting them in a kiss that's just engulfing, all encompassing, dwarfing everything that isn't them into all but meaningless.

It's not long before all their clothes are off, set to feeling each other. Their hands, yes, traveling across all this unveiled skin, but not even their lips are stationary, their faces buried in the crooks and curves of each other, the bridge of his nose nudging along her waist, nuzzling the soft pudge just below her navel, her eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against his ribcage like his fluttering heart that beats only for her.

Fingertips skimming down spines, warm puffs of breath raising hair on end, this heat that's not hot but utter warmth, drawing forth, closer to each other.

Gamora's fingers flit down the side of his leg, tapping him into shifting, moving closer. Her hand moves up, a little dalliance on his hip, her thumb stroking, soft and reassuring, encouraging him closer.

Once he settles where she wants him, Gamora parts her legs, nodding her head and rocking forward, seeking, searching for his touch.

He gives it to her.

Peter grazes her inner thighs with the back of his knuckles, watching her carefully. She's so soft, so warm.

Gamora makes a little impatient whine, rocking her hips again more forcefully this time.

She bites her lip, squeezing his hip, nodding again as his hand brushes up against her sex, and all at once Peter's struck by the reality of the situation. How this is Gamora. This is _Gamora. _

Gamora with her eyebrows pulled together in pleasure and anticipation, Gamora that he's coaxing these soft breathy sounds from as he explores her further, fingers delving into her folds, finding her hot and ready, wet as she almost subconsciously rubs against his exploratory touch.

She's so wet, so warm, the little furrow of her brow as she meets his fingers with an insistent little buck of her hips is at once so cute and so her. Her eyes are closed, lips parted and panting, already so worked up and so beautiful. This is Gamora. This is really Gamora right here, with him right now, still gripping his hip as she cants down onto his fingers. This is Gamora.

And suddenly it's too much and not enough.

"Gamora, I... you... tell me yes, you want, please," he begs her, before this goes any further. Cause he needs- he needs this confirmation.

Her eyes flash open.

"It's unspoken," Gamora reminds him sharply.

"It can't be, not like this," Peter says, and he stops pumping her, and she almost snarls at him, but before she can snap she looks up and sees the expression on his face. The seriousness, the... vulnerability.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," she tells him, softly. A tone of caring that only he could bring out of her, that sounded foreign to her own ears.

She was still getting used to this. Caring about someone.

There's a look in his eyes that makes something in her chest ache for some unfathomable reason.

"That... that's not enough," he says, so quietly. But she can hear the real question, hovering behind the words he's too afraid to say.

The sadness in his voice is pulling at her heart, and she knows.

She knows what he really means by that. I'm not enough.

The words are implicit, but it's written all over him. The fear, insecurity, the vulnerability that's lined with an undertone of just never being enough.

She's come to realize that Peter's just as desperate for acceptance as the rest of them, he's just better at hiding it. Covering it up and extending his warmth to others, giving them a feeling of home, even though he gets so little of the closeness he's aching for in return. That feeling of belonging. He gives away pieces of himself, hoping that maybe this time he'll finally be… enough.

She knows what he really means when he says those words and pulls away from her.

_I'm not enough. _  
He's started to withdraw, retreating in on himself, and as much as she wants to protect herself, the annoying thing about caring for someone is that she wants to protect him too.  
She wants to protect him from thoughts like these, feelings like these, insecurities like these. She wants to take away all his sad looks, get that hurt, that damage out of his eye, to protect him from his past and the memories that put it there.

And maybe, the most infuriating thing, she wants to protect him from herself.

From her action or inaction- she finds she's not willing to stand by, idle, observing, learning, watching, waiting like she's used to.

She likes to know everything before putting a step forward, but she can't know everything when it comes to him. She wants to be quiet and wait like she always does. And she wants to protect him from whatever may harm his heart, and not doing anything isn't good enough anymore.  
Gamora reaches out to him, grasping his arm, keeping him from pulling away even further, looking him deep in the eyes.

"I want you," she says slowly, clearly. Intoning.

The look in his eyes is something like wonder and disbelief, and something so fragile he's never let her see before.

Something so pure and good, and she's mad at herself for never saying it before, never saying anything like it.

Because Peter was worth it. Of course he was.

As it settles in, she thinks he has the most beautiful heart in the world. She wants it for her own. His heart, his love. She wants it all. She wants him.  
He still looks like he's struggling to believe what she just said, though she didn't think she could make it anymore clearer. He's hesitant to believe her, and she doesn't blame him. All she wants is to reinforce that look of fragile hope in his eyes, reassure him that he's enough, protect him from anything that would convince him otherwise. She wants to keep him safe, to cover him until he's nice and warm, to wrap herself around him until he knows he's hers, that he's always gonna be hers.

Her look is smoldering, and she squeezes his arm.

"Now come on back to me," she half says, half demands, tugging him forward, and his lips are soft and warm against hers as they reunite in another kiss.

Peter's hand cups the back of her neck, and she fists a hand in his hair, tonguing open the seam of his lips until he parted for her and they became one and the same breath.


End file.
